


The Road Not Taken

by PiratesChoice



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Brotherhood, Choices, Fantasy, Fate, Friendship, Gen, Gen-fic, Homophobic language (one use), Multiple Universes, Sacrifice, Soulmates, Strong Language, portrayal of depression, some more angst but not as much angst as my last fic oh God I'm so sorry for scarring you all, suicide references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiratesChoice/pseuds/PiratesChoice
Summary: Every day and every moment, our lives are full of choices. We choose our path, we choose our friends, and we choose – in those most important of moments – whether or not to quit.A.C.E have made the decision to fight on, time and time again. But what if they had decided to take a different path? What if, when faced with rejection or criticism, they had simply walked away?A visit to an ancient shrine on Ganghwa Island offers them a chance to see the road not taken. Each member visits a timeline woven from a different choice – lives filled with romance, love, adventure and family. They are given a choice – continue to walk their current path, or take this different road – one without A.C.E as we know it?Each must make his choice. And he must make it alone.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 20





	1. Part I: The Red Thread

Junhee raised his face to the setting sun, took a deep breath and smiled.

The air felt different out here. The breeze in Seoul carried with it a sense of endless urgency; it was forever filled with the chatter of phone calls, already-late footsteps and the enduring thrum of traffic. But here on Ganghwa Island, the evening air brought only peace.

He stopped trailing up the hill after the others and looked back in the direction they had come. The sky had caramelised to burnt amber, a sticky toffee sun trickling down to meet the sea. The azure tide lapped at a shore some distance below – they had climbed further than he realised – kneading the island with waves of white froth. And all around them, fuchsia azaleas cascaded down the hillside like a quilted gown.

“What’s that dreamy look for, smiler?”

Further up the path, Donghun was hanging back for him, a pink bloom tucked behind his ear. Junhee shrugged.

“I’m happy.”

Donghun watched his face. “I want to take the piss out of you, but even I can’t.” He smiled. “It’s nice to see you happy.” He settled instead for giving Junhee’s ear a sharp pinch as they resumed their climb. Pebbles crunched beneath their sneakers.

“Do you believe in all this?” Junhee played with the red thread that had been braided around his wrist half an hour earlier. They had each taken it in turns to sit cross-legged in front of the old lady at the temple tucked at the foot of the hill. Junhee had been surprised at the softness of her hands as they had held his own, and at how deft her fingers worked as she braided the thread into a bracelet.

_The red thread of fate binds the hearts of those destined to walk their paths together. The thread may twist and turn, stretch and tangle, but it won’t ever break._ She had peered into his face, her crinkled eyes so searching he had fought an urge to turn away. _There are powers in this world you will never understand, young one. Remember that in difficult times. Your heart will find its home._

“The red thread stuff?” Donghun shrugged. “I dunno. Do you?”

Junhee carried on playing with the bracelet. “I want to. You know how much I want to. I feel like I’ve got my red thread, I’m just worried that there’s no one on the other end…”

“Junhee- _ah._ ” Donghun gave him a frank look, amusement caught at the corners of his lips. “That’s-”

“ _Hyungs!_ Why are you so slow?” Yuchan was already at the top of the hill, waving his arms over his head. “Donghun- _hyung,_ stop being old and creaky and hurry up!”

“Little punk.” Donghun raised finger guns at Chan, whose hearty laughter rang loud and clear even as he turned and disappeared from sight. Nevertheless, they picked up the pace and cleared the last of their ascent.

Up high, the wind caught Junhee’s bangs and tossed them into his eyes. The view was incredible – the horizon split the world in half, ribbons of pink and gold streaking through the sky as the sea darkened into evening hours. The sun had begun its plunge into its ocean bed for the night, disappearing beneath the furthest waves.

“It’s so pretty,” Donghun said with a whistle.

“But not as pretty as me,” sang Byeongkwan, turning a pirouette as Sehyoon caught on camera his silhouette against the sunset. Donghun sighed dramatically, appealing to Sehyoon in exasperation and only getting a shrug in response.

“You enable him,” Donghun groaned.

“Hey look.” Chan called them over. He crouched in front of a low shrine. Candles – long since burned out – lined the stones, and hundreds of scattered silver coins trapped beads of the morning’s rain, the droplets glowing in the sunset light like a thousand tiny fires. Junhee sat down next to Chan and brushed his fingertips across the silver offerings. “Do we pray or something?”

“I’m an atheist,” Junhee murmured automatically.

“Alright,” Donghun sighed, flopping down gracelessly next to him. “But we just climbed an hour to a shrine, so you can close your eyes and shut up for once.” Junhee jabbed at his leg, but settled on taking his hand. In turn, Chan rested his head on his shoulder.

Junhee breathed in the peace. Tension evaporated from his shoulders. He focussed on the faint whispering of waves, the light tickle of Chan’s hair against his neck, the way his weight felt against the grass, the-

“ _Hyung_?” Chan murmured. “How do you meditate?”

“Without an annoying _maknae_ interrupting you.” He put an arm across the youngest’s shoulders. “Listen to your heartbeat and just let all your thoughts drift in and drift away.” Junhee opened one eye and smiled at the frown of concentration knitting Chan’s brow. Kwan and Sehyoon rested their heads together, and Donghun’s lips were pursed as he breathed steadily.

_The red thread of fate binds the hearts of those destined to walk their paths together. The thread may twist and turn, stretch and tangle, but it won’t ever break._

The words echoed through Junhee’s mind as the sun held its breath and disappeared below the horizon.

In the last moment before it set, the world lit up with a bright green flash.

Everything jolted. Junhee was wrenched backwards, the sides of his vision closing in like a tunnel. He was falling, the world as he had been viewing it shrinking into the distance. He screamed out, tried to hold tight to Donghun’s hand… But his fingertips slipped away.

Down the rabbit hole he fell, until the darkness drew in and he could see no more.


	2. Part II: A Family of My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Donghun is shown an alternative life he could have led - his heart is filled with the kind of love he has always dreamed of. Will he choose to return to his timeline - or will he make the choice to take a different path?

> _“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs, and returns home to find it.”_

Donghun sat up in pitch-black darkness.

He remained still, his hands shaking, trying to steady his breath. Had the ground given way? He had fallen, yet there had been no hard landing. He got gingerly to his feet, making no sound. The blackness was oppressive; he couldn’t see so much as a hand in front of his face.

“Jun..?” he whispered. There was no response.

Carefully, he stepped forward, one hand still outstretched. The ground was flat and his sneakers made no sound as he walked.

 _Lee Donghun_.

The voice was simultaneously distant and shockingly close. He span around and jumped back in fright.

A woman stood in the darkness. Her face was beautifully unremarkable, her black hair in a simple braid down her back. Her grey gown was unadorned. Despite her plainness, light radiated from her white skin, casting an aura about her body – yet it lit nothing of the space around her.

“Who are you?” Donghun asked, not managing to keep the quiver out of his voice. The woman smiled.

_Do not be afraid. You are safe here._

Donghun’s eyes widened. The melodic voice was clear as the peel of a bell, but the woman’s lips didn’t move from their gentle smile.

_I am Gameunjang-Agi._

Donghun stared. “Gameunjang… Like the shrine?” His mind raced back through old history lessons mentally discarded for their uselessness. “Like the goddess of… luck or fate, or something?”

 _You are right. You and your friends are visiting my shrine._ She raised her shoulders a little. _Not so many young ones pay visit nowadays._

Donghun stared. Was he dreaming? Had he fallen asleep at the shrine?

 _Your hand_.

Without walking forwards, without his noticing, the woman was right beside him. Scared, Donghun took the hand she offered him.

Warmth blossomed down his forearm and lit up his whole being. He suddenly felt weightless, lifted away from his fears and the sound of his own racing heart. He looked up into the woman’s face, caught by surprise at the tears that formed in his eyes.

“Where are we? Am I dead?”

To his surprise, Gameunjang-Agi chuckled softly.

_No. You have walked a difficult path in your life, Lee Donghun. One filled with many choices._

He stayed mute.

_It is my place to show you a different path. One that could have been. And one that still could be._

“What do you mean?”

_Do you ever think about the life you could have led, should you have made different decisions at the most vital of times?_

Donghun frowned. “Different decisions? I’ve always walked this path. I’ve always known I would get here.” He met Gameunjang-Agi’s gaze with confidence.

_So there were not moments where you nearly quit? Where you could have given up and walked away?_

Donghun said nothing and simply swallowed hard.

Oh, there were _lots_ of those.

Gameunjang-Agi smiled.

 _This place, at the in-between-of-things, can take you to what could have been._ _And you may make a choice_. _It is not too late to take that other road._

Donghun’s heart skipped. “It’s not?” He shook his head firmly. “No. I would never change what I have…”

_Perhaps. First, let me show you to that other path._

Her grip on his hand grew firmer. Donghun searched her gaze, and then nodded.

*

The living room he stepped into was warm. A pale winter sun filtered through the window, casting pools of light onto the wooden floor. A plush rug filled the space, threaded with the same navy tones as the sofas arranged around a wall-mounted TV; an acoustic guitar was propped in one corner; a bookcase overflowed into stacks beside a vinyl player.

Donghun hesitated and glanced back over his shoulder. Gameunjang-Agi stood silently in the corner. She nodded him on.

 _Be at ease._ She tilted her head. _After all, this is your home_.

It took a moment for her words to sink in. Looking down at himself, Donghun found his clothes had changed. He was cocooned in an oversized plum jumper, his skinny jeans rolled up above slippers. He wriggled his toes. Everything was so soft.

A cluster of photo frames were hung on the wall and he moved towards them. He recognised a photo of himself as a teenager with his parents, but the others were unfamiliar. Some kids playing on a swing set. A woman sat on the beach with an ice cream. A-

“I’m home!”

Donghun’s heart skipped. A tiny young woman appeared in the doorway, her pretty face creasing into a huge smile. Her short hair was tied up right on the top of her head, like a little feather bobbing as she moved. Her arms were full of grocery bags, which she deposited on the table. She walked over to Donghun, a spring in her step.

“I’ll never understand how you get more handsome every single time I see you.” She looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with warm sincerity. “I was the luckiest girl in the world to marry you.” Something in his chest twisted, hard, just as she tilted up onto tiptoes and kissed him.

He shut his eyes. The world quietened. The skin of her cheek was soft as he brushed it with his fingers.

It was different to anything he had felt before. She felt like home.

“I love you.” It came out his mouth involuntarily the second they broke from their kiss, as her smiling brown eyes reflected him in a way he’d never seen himself before. She tapped him on the nose with her own.

“I know.” Her eyes glittered mischievously. “Now lemme fetch Hae.” She hurried back from the room.

_Well?_

Donghun stared at Gameunjang-Agi, who returned his gaze with a look of expectation. He grappled with his words.

“I… I’ve always hoped…” His voice stuck in his throat.

_You always felt a small emptiness in your heart, a gap that as a young man you’d hoped would be filled by finding someone to love?_

Donghun swallowed hard. “…Yeah.”

_Her name is Kim Kyungmi. You met five years ago at university, when you returned to sit your Masters degree. You married after just six months._

“Married…” he echoed. He stared at the empty doorway Kyungmi had left through. “She’s… She feels perfect. Why does she just feel perfect?”

 _She loves you entirely. After leaving your agency, you were lost. She saw you for who you were, and who you could be, and gave you your purpose again_.

“Leaving my agency? You mean Beat?” He whipped back around to face the lady in grey. “I left?”

_In this timeline, in the face of adversity as a trainee, you chose not to continue the path of music. Your four friends made this decision with you. A group never formed._

“A.C.E didn’t debut?”

He stopped, however, as a new, beaming person skittered into the room.

“ _Daddy!_ ”

The little boy ran helter-skelter towards Donghun, his chubby legs wobbling on his precarious course. The uneven rug sent him tumbling but still he giggled, his shock of black hair stuck up on ends as he fell. Kyungmi followed close behind and scooped him off the floor, only making him giggle louder.

“You hopeless muffin.” She smoothed back the toddler’s hair in vain. “Go on, give your dad a cuddle, Chinhae.” Without a pause, she deposited him into Donghun’s arms and went back to unpacking her groceries.

Nothing could have prepared Donghun for this. 

He held tight to the child, whose tiny hand patted his cheek. His heart skipped as for a moment, it looked as though the little boy was going to cry. With a twisting heart, Donghun realised that it wasn’t tears that threatened – the little one had simply inherited his father’s sad eyes. They filled with mirth, however, as he let out a giggle, nuzzling his round face against Donghun’s chest.

He smelled of crayons and cotton, and Donghun couldn’t recall a smell more like bottled happiness. With a shaking hand, he stroked Chinhae’s hair; it was the same soft thickness as his own. Powerful love washed through his heart and he leaned his face against his son.

 _Chinhae._ Donghun didn’t look up at Gameunjang-Agi as she spoke. _An old name, it means ‘ocean depths’. Your friends said it fitted your little family. A little quirky, a little old-fashioned…_

“Daddy? Why are you crying?”

When he opened his eyes, Chinhae was staring at him with open fear. Donghun quickly wiped his cheeks on the sleeve of his jumper. “I’m okay.” He let out a shaky breath. “Christ alive.”

“Daddy, Mama says you curse too much.”

Donghun raised an eyebrow at Chinhae’s earnest admonishment. “Huh. Mama’s probably right.”

He shifted Chinhae to his hip, walking over to the bookcase. This one was filled with photos of the three of them. A trip to a park, Kyungmi pushing her beaming son as the swing flew higher. A snapshot from – Donghun’s chest twisted once more – what looked like Chuseok at his family home. His own mom and dad sat playing with Chinhae, a train set running circles around them. And finally, a small photo, a little folded at the corners – of his own face, drenched in dark circles and patchy stubble, in a hospital room, clutching a new-born son swathed in white blankets.

Tears returned to Donghun’s eyes and he tried valiantly to prevent them falling. In the photo, his face, despite the signs of sleepless nights and worry, was lit up with the brightest smile, like a man granted a thousand wishes. In all his life, and all his time with A.C.E, he had felt a lot of joy, but nothing like the pride that resonated from this simple, dusty picture.

“I got your favourite.” He tore himself away from the photos as Kyungmi returned to his side. She smiled, holding out his favourite coffee milk.

“Thank you.” His voice cracked.

“Hey, what’s up?” Kyungmi’s expression instantly grew worried. Donghun shook his head.

“Nothing. I’m just… I’m happy to see you.” This prompted a hearty laugh from Kyungmi.

“You huge softie.” She nestled her way under his arm, popping a hand on their son’s head. “I love you for forever, and then an extra day.”

As their family rested together, the scene stopped. Donghun found himself stood once more in the dark place, looking out onto the living room and his other self.

 _Well?_ Gameunjang-Agi stood beside him. When he said nothing, she continued. _You want this life, don’t you? It can be your true timeline, you just have to choose it._

Donghun was unable to take his eyes from the family before him. He searched for words.

“I mean, I do, I… It’s what I’ve always dreamed of.” He paused. “Where are the others, in this timeline? We’re friends, aren’t we? Did they still become singers?

_Would you like to see for yourself, before you make a decision?_

He nodded, and Gameunjang-Agi held out her hand. Once more, warmth crept down his forearm as their fingers interlinked.

*

Donghun wasn’t familiar with the café, but it was the same as a thousand others across Seoul. Low chatter sat like a cloud over the wooden tables and mismatched armchairs. Coffees were clutched for warmth and laptops leaned into as students tapped out essays. He scanned the faces, looking for a flash of red hair, the glint of a pierced ear, but he frowned as he found no one of the sort.

“Are you sure they’re here?” he whispered to Gameunjang-Agi. She stood, hands clasped, just behind him, but the patrons of the café moved about her as though she wasn’t there at all. She nodded her head once.

 _Look again_.

Puzzled, Donghun searched the tables once more. This time, his mouth fell open as he spotted two familiar boys sat at a table, one of them talking a mile a minute as the other nodded quietly.

Donghun stepped forward hesitantly. The boys looked up as he approached.

“Sehyoon- _ah?_ Byeongkwan- _ah?_ ”

“Lee Donghun- _hyung_! God, it’s been forever! Look at you – you look like such a dad.” Byeongkwan laughed as he nodded him into an empty seat. “Ah, we all knew you’d be the first one to get married though, right? Not that it was going to be either of us, hey Sehni..?”

It wasn’t the Byeongkwan and Seyhoon he knew. He was unable to tear his gaze away as they went up to the counter to buy another pot of coffee. Gone was the pop-art candy hair, the painstaking makeup, the meticulously brightened skin. Both were bare-faced, their hair its natural jet black, their skin tanned brown. They looked, simply, like two ordinary young men, ones who had nothing to do with the influence of the music industry.

“How’s your little one? Chinhae, isn’t it?” Byeongkwan set down the mugs and coffee; Donghun noticed tattoos snaking up both forearms and disappearing into his rolled-up sleeves. “How old is he now?”

“Three and a half,” Donghun replied, trying to keep his voice natural. He could hardly let on that he was visiting this place from some other timeline.

“That’s right, he was only tiny when we left.” _Left?_ Donghun began to wonder, but Byeongkwan continued. “It’s weird being back in Korea after so long. It feels-”

“-conservative.” Sehyoon spoke softly around the edges of his mug.

“Yeah.” Byeongkwan swirled his drink. “I mean, you get to see a lot in two years of travelling. We’ve been to, erm-”

“-Seventeen.”

“-Seventeen countries. It’s crazy how people live so differently.”

Donghun tried to keep the surprise from his face. “So… You’re back for now?”

“Only two weeks.” Donghun looked at Sehyoon. He kept expecting to see that glimmer of silliness he was so accustomed to nowadays, but it didn’t appear. This Sehyoon spoke quietly, like the one he had known many years ago. “Then we’re flying out to South America.”

“Wow.” Donghun sat back, digesting the news. It made sense to him. Of course Byeongkwan and Sehyoon had stuck together even without A.C.E coming to fruition – nor was he surprised to learn they’d settled on travelling the globe. He’d always known his own paradise was one at home – in Korea, with a family… But this pair’s sights were always set on the horizon.

 _Theirs is a strong bond in this timeline too. The decision to end Beat Interactive, and your group, was hard on you all. But theirs was a friendship not easily rocked._ Gameunjang-Agi sat at their table, watching Sehyoon and Byeongkwan chatter about their next big adventure. _You don’t speak often, your paths diverged. They hold fond memories of you, though._

Donghun felt a twinge of sadness. Had he really let go of his brotherhood with these two, because of his wife and son? He watched them talk amongst themselves.

“I’m planning on adding to these.” Byeongkwan tipped up his arms, showing Donghun the watercolour ink on his skin. “Something for every country we visit. I keep telling Sehni to get one but he’s a wimp.” Sehyoon simply rolled his eyes, making Byeongkwan laugh. “Good job you didn’t end up an idol, you’d have had, like, blue hair or something by now.”

“I can’t imagine that, somehow.” Sehyoon smiled into his mug.

Donghun watched him. “You’d have made an incredible idol, Sehyoon. You… really would.” He played with a teaspoon absently. “So, are you both happy?”

Byeongkwan’s smile was immediate, and genuine.

“You kidding? Couldn’t be happier. I mean, I’m lucky. Taking this time to explore where I want to be for the long-term, and I get to see it all with my best friend.” He shrugged. “The whole music, training thing – at the time, I felt so shitty. All those knockbacks and it came to nothing. But everything has a reason and if it was a means to meeting Sehni, it was worth it.” He grinned at Sehyoon. “Now don’t even think about doing like Donghun- _hyung_ here and finding some girl to marry, otherwise I’m stuck on my own.”

They both laughed, and the sound of it warmed Donghun’s heart. With it, the scene stopped; back into the strange dark place-between-places he went, once more looking in on his ‘other’ self. For a long moment, he stood gazing in on this other version of his friends, their faces split into smiles, looking with every passing second like the happiest versions of themselves he could recall.

_A penny for your thoughts._

Donghun took a very deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.

“We’re all… so happy.” He looked up at Gameunjang-Agi. “Am I really able to choose this road as the real one?”

She inclined her head.

“I mean, look at them. Travelling the world! And still the best of friends. It’s sickening.” He laughed weakly. “They always wanted to see so many places. Not just visit them, like when we were on tour, but actually _see_ them. And they look…” He searched for the word. “Well, they actually look Korean.” He sighed again, conflicting emotions wrestling in his heart. “What about Chan? He’s doing music, he’s got to be.”

_What makes you so sure?_

“There’s no way he’d go back to Jeju. And he’s too young to get married. Performing is just a part of who he is.”

Gameunjang-Agi chuckled. _You are correct._ She waved a hand and before them, colourful sparks flitted together and materialised into a familiar form in front of them. Yuchan, face split into an enormous grin, his arms flung around two other boys whose faces couldn’t be made out. Looking at that laughing face, Donghun felt he could hear the image.

_When Beat folded, Yuchan transferred. He debuted under another small agency called KQ in 2018. Their group has gone on strongly._

Donghun nodded. “And Junhee?” Gameunjang-Agi looked down quietly. “Gameunjang-Agi, what is it?”

_I will take you to him now._

*

Donghun knew the Parks’ family home; he had visited with A.C.E a number of times. The house in this timeline remained unchanged. What changed was the reception from Junhee’s father. Where before, Donghun was greeted with familiar warmth from his friend’s family, he now received a curt if courteous response.

“Go on ahead.” Mr Park nodded towards the staircase. “I’m warning you though, you won’t get a damn thing out of him.”

Donghun was left brooding over these words as he made his own way upstairs. As he neared the top, a familiar face peered around the corner and watched him approach.

“Hey, Lion.” Donghun reached out to pat the dog’s wildly fluffy head, sending his tail wagging frantically. “Where’s your boy?”

Lion padded across the landing and nudged a door ajar with a big damp nose. Donghun followed and, after a slight pause, raised his hand to knock.

“Yeah…” It was the most familiar of voices, but something felt askew. Lion gave the door another headbutt, and Donghun followed him in.

A warming sun shone valiantly outside in the afternoon, but curtains had been yanked shut to deny its access; Donghun’s eyes took a moment to adjust. The room was cluttered, clothes abandoned on the floor where they had been taken off. Dust filtered through the air, bringing with it a sense that nothing in this room had stirred for some time.

Lion rested his great head on the foot of the bed. His dark eyes filled with sadness and he let out a quiet whimper.

“I just want to sleep.” The voice was muffled by pillows and duvet. Donghun hesitated, unsure of what to do, but settled on shutting the door behind him and crossing over to the bed, ignoring the sense of alarm knocking at his heart.

“Junhee- _ah?_ ” Silence. “It’s me, Donghun.”

Just as he feared he was going to be ignored, Junhee sat up. Donghun’s stomach flipped over.

It was unmistakably his friend’s face, but it had changed in all the worst ways. Oily hair hung into his puffy eyes, caught on his lashes each time he blinked. The dark stubble that his Junhee, A.C.E’s Junhee, always grappled to keep at bay was days past its last shave. But worst of all was the gauntness of his cheeks. The blanket fell to his waist as he stared at Donghun, his black vest hung from pale shoulders. There was simply not enough left of Junhee to fill it out anymore.

“ _Hyung_?!” Junhee’s stare was bewildered, as though it was Donghun who had gone through a complete and shocking transformation. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see how you are.”

Junhee watched him, his dark eyes cynical. “Well. You’ve seen.” He leaned back against the pillows and pulled his knees to his chest, his face desperately unhappy.

Donghun cautiously perched on the side of the bed. Anxiety rose in his throat like bile. “What happened to you?” He didn’t get a response. “Junhee- _ah_ , you’re so skinny, what the hell-”

“-I really don’t want to get into this…”

“-Are you sick? Are you depressed?”

Junhee met his eyes reluctantly. His voice was quiet. “Well done, detective.”

Donghun was lost for words. He reached out a hand automatically to take Junhee’s, but his friend snatched it away like he was poisonous.

“Why are you here?” he repeated. Donghun ignored him.

“Why are you feeling like this? What happened?”

“What happened?” A tiny flame lit in Junhee’s eyes, the only hint of the spark that normally burned there. “What happened? You mean other than losing everything I’d dreamed of?” He scoffed, his eyes looking off across the room. “You may have all moved on. Yuchan had one foot in another agency before we’d even called curtains. Byeongkwan and Sehyoon buddied up with no room for anyone else and fucked off across the globe. And y-you-” Tears made his eyes glow bright. “You got your fancy degree, because you’re smart, and you got married, and you started a family-”

“That’s unfair…”

“Is it? _Is it_?” Tears finally bled down Junhee’s face. “ _Hyung,_ I want all those things for you. I’m happy for you. But… why did you stop calling? You… You abandoned me, Donghun. After you promised you’d always be there for me. You met a girl, your life moved on, and you left me behind.” Tears dripped from his chin. “You didn’t even invite me to your wedding.”

Donghun shut his eyes. It hurt.

 _You did cut your ties with him_. Gameunjang-Agi spoke quietly. _After you went to college and met Kyungmi, you slowly stopped replying to his messages. He was a part of your past you chose to leave behind. You cut him off, in order to move onto your future._

Donghun’s own tears escaped his eyelashes.

“I’m sorry.” Donghun opened his eyes as Junhee croaked the words. “I don’t want to be like this. I just… I don’t know how to not be anymore. I-”

“No,” Donghun cut across him quickly. “Don’t apologise. Please.” He choked back his tears.

_Junhee moved back in with his parents after Beat ended. Their relationship deteriorated; they don’t understand his darkness._

“Junhee.” Donghun sat forward as his friend looked up at him. Decisively, he took him in a fierce hug and held him tight. Hesitant arms circled him in return, and Junhee put his face on his shoulder to cry.

“I will never let this happen to you. I would never. I won’t-!”

Donghun was still crying as he found himself standing, a third time, in the dark place besides Gameunjang-Agi.

“What nightmare is this?” He took a deep and trembling breath, dragging his sleeve across his cheeks to dry them. Gameunjang-Agi looked at him, her face unreadable.

_Each choice we make creates a brand new set of circumstances. Some are positive, some less so. The decision not to debut as singers changed not just the world around you, but changed the way in which each of you, as individuals, grew. It changed your relationships. Such is the importance of the decisions we make every day. Choosing to work harder. Choosing to quit. The effects ripple outwards._

Donghun’s tears had dried but he remained shaken. “I understand.”

_So are you still inclined to walk this path?_

“After that? No!”

_What of Kyungmi and Chinhae?_

His heart twisted as a vision appeared before them of his wife and son.

_What of Sehyoon and Byeongkwan’s lives of adventure?_

Besides his family: the laughing, healthy faces of his friends.

_And Chan, performing on great stages?_

Again, the laughing face appeared that he could hear without the need for any sound.

Donghun looked at them in turn.

“No.” He turned away. His voice was steady. “I would never choose a path that left one of the boys in that way. And I would never choose to be a version of me who abandons his brothers.” He shut his eyes, forcing away the images of Chinhae’s smiling face. “I can still find a family. There’s time. But I only have one group of brothers, and that’s a treasure I will never walk away from.”

Gameunjang-Agi tilted her head once. _Then so be it._

Donghun’s stomach lurched. A sense of falling, and Gameunjang-Agi faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming soon... 
> 
> Part III: A Work of Art
> 
> When Sehyoon wakes up in the dark place, he feels no fear. Curiosity ignites in his heart as he steps into a life of colour and creation. Will he stay true to the path he has walked - like Donghun? Or will his passion pull him into making a different decision?


	3. Part III: A Work of Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sehyoon enters the dark place, he is shown a life filled with creativity and art. A deep sense of contentment settles in his heart - will he return to his life with A.C.E, or will he choose to chase this different dream?

> _“The creative adult is the child that survived.”_

The all-enveloping darkness didn’t scare Sehyoon.

Curious, he brushed his fingers along the surface where he sat; it felt like the smooth coldness of blank slate. The glow from the woman stood some distance away failed to light anything around them, and he knew from that that this place existed beyond the realms of his normal reality.

_You do not seem afraid_.

Sehyoon looked up, holding her gaze as he thought. He was silent for a long moment. It had always been his way to carefully consider his words before vocalising them.

“I’m not.” He shrugged. “If you are Gameunjang-Agi, as you say you are – and I’ve got no reason to suspect otherwise – then I’m in the presence of a deity. I’m probably safer than I’ve ever been.” He gave a lopsided smile. “And if you can really show me an alternate timeline… Well, I’m curious.”

_It doesn’t surprise you to learn that your path may have been different if you had made different decisions._

“Not at all.” Sehyoon got to his feet and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Jean Paul Sartre is quoted to have said ‘we are our choices’. It stands to reason that if I’d made decisions differently, my life would’ve been entirely changed. I think about it a lot.” He shrugged a second time. “One day, when I was sixteen – back in Jeolla-Do – I walked out of a dance class. I was struggling with an injury in my calf, and I felt so behind everyone else. I didn’t feel like I could sing – and I’d never rapped in front of anyone. The kids who wanted to be idols there had all been taught, but to this day, I’ve never had a lesson. And I was so shy, no one wanted to be friends with me. They just thought I was weird.”

Gameunjang-Agi watched him, expressionless. _But you went back in._

“I went back in,” he agreed. “I went back in and finished the class, and went back to every class after that, and eventually moved to Seoul to be a trainee.” He smiled. “I often think about what would have happened if I had walked out of that carpark and never gone back.”

_Would you like to find out?_

Sehyoon studied Gameunjang-Agi’s face, curiosity blossoming in his heart like spring petals. He nodded once.

_Your hand_.

Her fingers were warm as he took them in his own. He felt tender contentment run through his bloodstream like honey, and she pulled him into the light.

*

Sehyoon stepped out into a room full of juxtaposition.

It was a vast space, with the high ceiling, wooden beams and bare brick walls of a warehouse. Yet nothing about the room was cold nor industrial. At one end, a modern kitchen had been fitted into the space, a breakfast bar piled with sketchpads and an overflowing fruit bowl. Opposite, plush sofas filled a living space, shelves displayed ceramics and statues – along with a neat mountain of comic books – and canvases splashed colour onto the walls.

Filled with curiosity, he walked slowly around the room. He looked out of the large windows onto a main street he recognised as central Insadong, a neighbourhood of Seoul known for its independent stores and art scene. Those artistic inhabitants scurried passed now, backlit by a sun that set somewhere beyond the tall buildings.

_Welcome home_. Gameunjang-Agi watched him explore, her face unreadable. _Your own apartment, in this timeline._

Sehyoon raised an eyebrow, running his fingers across the back of one sofa, eyes still on the framed artwork on the wall opposite. “I’m doing pretty well to live somewhere like this.” He smiled. “It’s a far cry from the dorm I’m used to.” His eyes were drawn to an invitation left on the mahogany coffee table. Details of an exhibition were printed across the leaflet in cursive font. Before he could look any closer, Gameunjang-Agi inclined her head towards the door.

_Take a look downstairs._

Sehyoon studied her face and again failed to gauge any emotions from her. Inquisitiveness blossomed in his chest, however. What an extraordinary experience – to see the path not taken.

The staircase led down to another door, and this time he didn’t hesitate. What he found inside, however, brought him to a standstill.

The ground floor opened into a shop, fronted entirely by glass windows that that looked right onto the busy street outside. The interior, painted white, was filled with clothing rails, beautifully laid out; mannequins showcasing carefully selected pieces; a burst of colour atop the counter where fresh flowers had been meticulously arranged in white vases. Sehyoon had been in a hundred independent clothing stores like this one – he could almost hear Byeongkwan’s playful groans from the countless times Sehyoon had dragged him out shopping. But right away he recognised that this shop was different.

This shop was filled with his own designs.

Wordlessly, he trailed over to the nearest hangers. The t-shirts felt soft beneath his shaking fingers, embroidered carefully with designs he knew were in his own style. Abstract pop culture references, bright clashing colours, all inspired by the surrealist artists he had grown up idolising… And not just on a single pair of jeans or a shirt here and there – but on hundreds of articles, neatly organised into sections, and each carrying a tag adorned with a black and white logo: _Persona Foxx._

_Your own label. In this lifetime, you followed that artist heart of yours. You studied at Tokyo University of the Arts and received a master’s degree in Intermedia Art. During your time in Japan, you began to not only design your own clothes but also sell them at a market stall in Shimokitazawa. You honed your brand before returning to Seoul and launching this – your own shop._

“Japan…” Sehyoon echoed. He ran his thumb cross the little cubist fox that sat beneath the brand name on the tag in between his fingers. “What about A.C.E?”

_You wanted to know what would have happened should you have walked away from that dance class when you were upset?_ Gameunjang-Agi raised her shoulders a fraction. _This is what happened._

A shiver ran its tendrils down Sehyoon’s spine. He had always wondered, but he never expected to have an opportunity to find out.

“So did I pursue music at all?” A tumult of emotions mixed in his belly. “Or..?”

_No. You love music. It’s one of your many passions. But here, you never became a trainee. You let the dream fade when it had barely begun to unfold – and followed a different dream instead. A.C.E didn’t form without you. But I can tell you that the others_ did _continue to pursue music, and they are happy._

Sehyoon immediately thought of Junhee’s highly-strung personality in a group of other people; Yuchan without his _hyungs_ to guide him through the difficult times. He caught himself, however. _This is irrational. They didn’t need A.C.E – they just needed someone. There are a hundred other people who could have filled those roles. It’s not as though I’m some vital part of their success._

He was unable to brood on A.C.E as he wandered throughout the designs, touching fabrics, pride and happiness flooding his veins like alcohol. Art and fashion had always been a ‘one day’ – one day he would have the time, one day he would showcase the creations inside his head…

He stopped before a full-length mirror. His eyes widened in surprise. It was unmistakably his own reflection, but not in the way he was used to. He leaned closer. His natural black hair had been grown out and tied up in a messy knot on top of his head. Eight or nine silver piercings gilded each ear and caught in the bright lights – and his face looked so much softer. Curious fingers found his own body. Gone were the abs he ground out in the gym each day, gone was the disciplined waist from so many hungry evenings. It felt alien, but he was filled by a comfortable sense of healthiness. He-

A set of knuckles rapped on the glass and made him jump out of his musings. Five boyish faces appeared in the window, grinning and waving. Sehyoon hesitated but Gameunjang-Agi stepped closer.

_Your friends. Two you met in Japan; three are artists from Korea._

Sehyoon paused for just a moment longer, and then familiar curiosity knocked once more on his heart. He went to the door and turned the key that sat in the lock.

“Yoonie- _hyung_ , congratulations!” One of the boys grabbed his arm, beaming up at him. _“_ Tonight’s the big night! Are you ready?”

“I… am?” He managed, casting back for Gameunjang-Agi; faint amusement crossed her face as she waved him on.

“You sure?” The tallest of the boys laughed, his ash-grey hair falling into his eyes. “I swear you’re on another planet sometimes, _hyung_. You’d be late to your own funeral.”

They pulled him on down the street, a whirlwind of excited chatter and eccentric fashion. Sehyoon expected his innate shyness to rear its head, but to his surprise he felt immediately at ease. Genuine warmth radiated from this group of boys, along with the sense of comfort a person feels when they find their tribe. They felt like home.

He listened happily to their chatter until they arrived outside a white building with its large double doors flung open. It was an exhibition space – one Sehyoon recognised from various displays and performance art nights he had managed to fit into his schedules back in his own timeline. His heart lifted. Were they here to see an exhibition? A performance?

Inside, art filled the room, carefully curated in the open space. He only managed to get a few paces inside before two new people greeted him warmly, while a third pressed a glass of champagne into his hand along with a string of congratulations. What was..?

“To your first solo exhibition.” The grey-haired boy – the others had called him Kwangmin – raised his own glass as he spoke, and the others followed suit. Sehyoon stepped back, stunned.

The art on the walls. It was his own.

“To Sehyoon!” The glasses chinked, and the group broke out in their excitable chatter once again. Sehyoon, however, heard none of it.

The room was busy, filled with happy faces. People wandered between paintings, peering closely at the detailing on each canvas. They were here for him. For his achievements in art. Sehyoon’s throat grew sticky, and he wrestled down the tears that rose in his eyes.

“I knew you’d cry, you soppy bastard.” The others were immersed in their conversations, but Kwangmin watched him closely with a half-smile. Sehyoon looked up at him, saw a flood of genuine pride and love in his friend’s eyes, that crinkled as he smiled. “Well, I’m proud of you. You’re my best friend and I’m so glad to be here with you on the night you always worked for.”

The tears he tried so hard to fight, spilled.

He had no idea why he felt so moved. No idea why those words meant so much to hear from this Kwangmin – this person he’d only just met – but his pride filled Sehyoon’s heart to bursting.

_Your closest and dearest friend_. Gameunjang-Agi was right behind him – although entirely unacknowledged by anyone else in the room. _You met in Tokyo when you were in the same class. Since then, he has been one of your biggest supporters, always cheering you on. You both moved back to Seoul upon graduating and have been inseparable since._

He was grappling for something to say when the first notes from a piano filled the room. Everyone turned towards a raised platform, where a pianist began playing a piece with adept fingers. Smiles broke out across the room as the guests listened.

Sehyoon’s thoughts were elsewhere. He stared into the gently fizzing champagne, trying to wrap his head around all he had learned. He had always assumed that if, on that day, he had walked away from his dance studio, his life would have turned out for the worse. That his dream would have died, that he would have been left with an unfillable void in his heart that should have been filled by a musical career. But instead, a new dream had blossomed to fill that space. Would he call it better, or worse? It was different, certainly – but seemingly filled with creativity, love and happiness. He-

The pianist started singing and Sehyoon nearly tripped from spinning around so fast.

It was unmistakably Junhee’s voice. That warm tone, the breathy vibrato – it was the voice he had listened to every day for so many years. And sure enough, it was his friend – that distinctive sharp jawline, the wildly thick dark hair – only now his hair had been tamed back from his face, his grey checked suit well-fitted and his silver glasses on the end of his nose.

“Oh, it’s _him_ ,” one of Sehyoon’s group commented with a sigh. “I’ve heard people talk about this guy. He’s got such a voice, don’t you think?”

Sehyoon said nothing, and then jumped when he realised the question was addressed to him. “Uh, yeah. He’s good.”

Enthusiastic applause rippled through the room as Junhee finished a short string of songs, and the music was replaced with the old buzz of conversation. Sehyoon quietly extracted himself from the group and picked his way over to the piano, halted several times along the way by greetings and congratulations.

“Hey.” He grinned as Junhee turned to look at him, and his friend’s face broke out in that familiar easy smile.

“Hi!” Junhee’s greeting was happy and genuine, but he offered no more. That was when Sehyoon realised his smile was missing any sign of recognition. He faltered.

“I… I’m Sehyoon?” he tried, stumbling on his words. Junhee’s face lit up and Sehyoon felt a wash of relief. It was short-lived.

“Ah Sehyoon- _ssi_! It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your art is amazing. Thank you so much for inviting me to play, it’s an honour.” Junhee ducked a respectful bow.

_Remember, you never became a trainee, Sehyoon._ Gameunjang-Agi’s voice carried with it a tone of warning. _Junhee is not your teammate here._

“I-ah…” Sehyoon stuttered, his face warm. “You played well. Thank you for coming.”

“Oh, not at all!” Junhee replied breezily. “I love the chance to play at events like this.”

“My friends were excited to see it was you playing,” Sehyoon replied carefully, thinking of the note of admiration he had heard from the others.

“Ah, really?” Junhee laughed. “Thank you. When I started performing more, most people knew me from _After He Left_ , the drama I was in a few years ago. But music is the love of my life. I think people are finally seeing me as a musician and not an actor. It’s great, I’m so happy.”

It took only gentle probing to tease further details on Junhee’s career from him. He spoke easily, a pink flush creeping across his nose as he finished the champagne dangling between his fingers. A smile twitched permanently at the corners of Sehyoon’s mouth. It was the same excitable energy he was oh-so used to, but with a lightness that made Junhee glow. It was like the pressures he carried on his shoulders as the leader of A.C.E had evaporated, leaving nothing but his love for music and zest for life. It warmed Sehyoon’s heart through.

*

Sehyoon walked through the streets arm-in-arm with his friends. The exhibition had run on until midnight, and the more champagne he had drank, the wilder his long hair had become and the warmer the glow in the middle of his chest had grown. He laughed at a joke made by one of the others, content in their company.

“Go on then, Mr Artist. Bed time. We’ll see you soon.” The others smiled as they walked him to the side entrance of the shop, leading up to his apartment.

“Thank you for coming.” Sehyoon looked at their proud faces with genuine gratitude. “Tonight was more than I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Inside his apartment, he kicked off his military boots and flopped down happily on one of the sofas. This place was great.

_You look like you enjoyed your evening._ He sensed amusement from Gameunjang-Agi and he couldn’t help but smile.

“I did.” He sat up, contemplative. “Are you going to ask me to make a decision?”

Gameunjang-Agi spread her hands. _I am_.

Sehyoon looked away, deep in thought. Stars twinkled through the open windows, gemstones scattered on a velvet sky. “Can I sleep in this world? And sleep on my decision?”

_Yes. You may. But tomorrow you must decide._

He nodded once. “I understand.”

Freeing his hair from its tie and shaking it loose, he walked with a yawn to the bedroom beyond the kitchen, peeling off his clothes and falling with a sigh into bed. The spacious double, piled with cushions and plushies, felt a long way from the bunkbeds at the dorm or the hotel beds shared with the boys. A smile pulled at his lips, and he fell immediately into a sleep deeper and more peaceful than that which he had had in a very long time.

*

Gameunjang-Agi was waiting silently in the store when Sehyoon made his way downstairs the following morning. She smiled at him in greeting, and he returned it – feeling a genuine touch of affection for her.

_It’s 8:55. The shop opens at nine._

“Ah.” Sehyoon blinked a couple of times, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Guess I’d better open up.”

Gameunjang-Agi didn’t push for anything from him that morning. In fact, she remained silent as he greeted customers, talked about his designs, and carefully tidied folded shirts to best show off their hand-stitched patterns. Daylight filtered through the glass at the front of the shop and the square spaced filled with warm sunshine.

He was filling up the vases of flowers with fresh water when two people walked into the otherwise empty shop. Their laughter arrived before they did, and Sehyoon looked up instinctively. His heart leaped.

Byeongkwan’s hair was a shock of lilac, swept back from his face and catching on the breeze that followed him into the store. He wore a long black coat, a white shirt, and leather trousers tucked into buckled boots. But it wasn’t just the brave aesthetic – that aura of positivity and confidence that shone around Byeongkwan every single day made it unmistakably him.

A smile broke out on Sehyoon’s face immediately. Byeongkwan caught his gaze and smiled too – but just as Sehyoon was about to speak, his friend’s eyes slid away again. Just like Junhee’s at last night’s exhibition, they were completely devoid of recognition.

Byeongkwan chattered away to his companion, fingers running absently through racks of clothes. He pulled out a jacket and cast over it with appraising eyes, holding up the details of tiny robots embroidered on the lapels, pursed his lips and returned it to the rail.

Ouch. That one hurt.

Sehyoon turned his attention to Byeongkwan’s friend. He was tall and slim, his hair bleached blonde, his pretty face touched up with makeup. _They must be idols,_ Sehyoon thought. _Just look at them_.

Whoever he was, he was confident, and loud. The two kept sniggering while they browsed, making jokes and catching each other’s eyes. Byeongkwan’s laugh was infectious; this blonde kid’s laugh was infuriating. Sehyoon tried to look busy rearranging the flowers, but his careless fingers snapped off the head of a cosmos as Beyongkwan’s friend took him by the hand and made him laugh again.

“Jae- _hyung,_ don’t let me forget to film more stuff for my video diary thing.” Byeongkwan sifted through hoodies as he talked. “You can be in it too?”

Jae rolled his eyes. “Fine. Although I swear I’m in half your video logs. We might as well combine them at this point.”

“I mean… Deltas would love that, they love whenever me and you do joint content.”

“Well…” Jae smirked in Byeongkwan’s direction. “‘JaeKwan is the real cool ship’..!”

Sehyoon couldn’t help himself: he scoffed loudly. Inexplicable repulsion rushed past his ears. He flushed as both Byeongkwan and Jae looked in the direction of the noise.

Slowly, Jae walked towards him.

“Um, excuse me? Was that directed at us?” Sehyoon remained silent as Jae approached the counter. “Do you have a problem?”

He stared at Sehyoon with a look of utter derision. Sehyoon held his gaze coolly, but with extreme self-control, looked away.

“Nothing of the sort.” He moved out from behind the counter, went to cross the room. Jae caught his arm with tight fingers.

“I heard you laughing at us. And you were watching my friend-”

“Jae- _hyung_ , let it go, we’ve talked about this…”

But Jae didn’t respond to Byeongkwan’s words. His eyes remained fixed on Sehyoon. “I know your type. You hipsters who do some half-baked sketch and think you’re above everyone else.”

Sehyoon allowed nothing to show on his face. He refused to break his gaze a second time. He stared, unmoving, into the sneering eyes of this jumped-up asshole. What was Byeongkwan _thinking_ , making friends with someone like this? The way Byeongkwan and Jae had laughed together, finished one another’s sentences… That was _their_ thing. This Jae kid could never know that friendship…

“Got nothing to say to that, huh?” Jae’s voice adopted a tone of triumph. Still refusing to rise to it, Sehyoon’s eyes flickered instead to Byeongkwan. His face looked pained, and he met Sehyoon’s eyes with guilt. But beyond that – a deeper stress, a longer-term worry, a tension most would miss but Sehyoon could spot immediately…

“Oh, _wait_ a second.” Jae followed his gaze. “Or is this about him? Ahh, _that’s_ it, isn’t it? You know who he is, don’t you? Are you jealous of me? You a little fanboy?” He scoffed, his face close to Sehyoon’s. His upper lip curled cruelly. “And you dare laugh at me. Faggot.”

The A.C.E boys always told Sehyoon that of them all, his anger was the one they were most afraid of. It took a great deal to push him to the edge.

Right now, that switch flicked.

Venom ran around Sehyoon’s bloodstream like an electric current. He grabbed Jae’s collar and yanked him forward, hard. He could barely spit the words out.

“Don’t _ever_ call me that, don’t _ever_ use that word around him, you little c-”

The room disappeared.

The dark place returned around him.

“-unt.” Sehyoon stumbled forwards, his fist meeting nothing but empty space.

His own breathing was loud in the silence. For a minute, blood pounded in his ears, his hands trembling. Slowly, he unclenched his fists.

_It seemed like high time for you to consider your decision._ Gameunjang-Agi appeared at his side. Whether it was humour or admonishment in her voice, he couldn’t tell. As the anger faded, he flushed, embarrassed of lashing out.

“…Thanks.”

_You stayed a while in this new version of your world. Fighting customers aside – you clearly enjoyed your time._

Sehyoon let out a deep breath, thinking for a moment before he answered. “I did,” he admitted eventually. He shrugged. “I felt fulfilled. But without the constant pressure I’ve always felt in A.C.E.” He carefully considered his feelings before attempting to explain. “I love music and I love being an idol. But you’re always watched. Every move is monitored, and you can’t slip up. Look what happens to idols who get caught messing up – they’re vilified. One lapse of judgement – and it’s ten years of relentless dedication up in smoke.

“But being an artist… It’s doing what I love, creating, and making people happy… But then I can go home at the end of the day and know that no one is watching my every move.”

Gameunjang-Agi tilted her head, watching him. _It sounds like this path is calling you_.

For a long while, Sehyoon said nothing.

And slowly, he shook his head.

“No.” In his mind, he saw Byeongkwan and Jae, replayed Jae’s aggression and spite. But more painful than that, he replayed Byeongkwan’s failure to recognise him. He replayed the look of discomfort and unhappiness in Byeongkwan’s eyes – like Jae had done this before, given him cause to be afraid. Sehyoon searched for the words to explain.

“Byeongkwan is the most important thing in the world to me. I didn’t know how it felt to prioritise someone else’s happiness before your own before we became friends. But there are two reasons I couldn’t pick this path. Firstly, he wasn’t happy. This Jae… if _that’s_ his best friend in this timeline… I don’t care about the playfulness or the smiles. I _know_ he isn’t happy. I could sense it. And secondly… I won’t pick a reality where he and I aren’t in each other’s lives.” He shook his head. “It’s just not an option.”

“You see… Byeongkwan is my soulmate. It’s frustrating,” he continued with a sigh, tilting his head. “That word has become synonymous with… with boy meets girl romance. But that’s not what it’s about at all. It’s just two people who meet and just… _know_ each other. Understand each other on some other level. It’s… hard to explain. But someone who you know entirely, that knows you entirely, with all your faults and flaws and ugly bits – and you’re still comfortable letting them see all that. And even knowing your darkness, they still manage to make you blossom in ways you could never have imagined.”

_But in this world, you have Kwangmin. He supports you to the end of the earth. Are you not so sure he is your soulmate?_

Sehyoon shook his head. “Soulmates aren’t about some mysterious fate… or some person that comes into your life in some magical way and everything is perfect forevermore. Your soulmate is the person who you choose. And continue to choose – time and time again. You could show me a thousand friends in a thousand timelines – people who love art the way I do, friends who have my back, friends who love me, friends with whom I never fight with. But I’d choose Byeongkwan every time. And Yuchan, and Junhee, and Donghun. I choose them now - and in an infinity of lifetimes, I would choose them again and again and again.”

_You have your answer, then_.

Sehyoon nodded. “Thank you, Gameunjang-Agi.”

_Thank you, Kim Sehyoon. You have a beautiful heart._

“So do you. If deities have hearts.”

He heard Gameunjang-Agi laugh for the first time, and then she faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this one took a little while - I originally wrote a draft I wasn't at all happy with, so chose to scrap it and start again, and we ended up with this. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> ************************
> 
> Coming soon: Chapter IV: Survival of the Fittest
> 
> Yuchan has always thought himself lucky to have two sets of brothers: in A.C.E, and in UNB. When UNB came to a close and he returned to his original group, a small voice always wondered what might have happened if UNB had continued. Stepping into the dark place, Yuchan is given a chance to find out. Surrounded by publicity and talent, the taste of success is sweet - but at what cost does it come?


End file.
